


Death Sings a Song,... unless It Hates You, then it Fucking Laughs at You

by mockingjaybee



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Gettysburg ghost AU, I'm not even kidding, M/M, Patrick's POV, civil war!Mikey, civil war!Pete, gerard is a little shit, ghost au, honestly i don't know, i wrote this when i was supposed to be working on stuff for beauty school, ikr, mention of the jersery devil, mikey is a dick too, patrick and gerard live in new jersery, patrick and gerard work for a newspaper, patrick puts up with so much, remember AIM, super happy fun times, this is why i can't have nice things, yeah they use AIM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:52:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjaybee/pseuds/mockingjaybee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death doesn't just wait around for you, it haunts you, finds you when IT feels as if it's your time. Just, sometimes, Death has a funny way of showing you when you die, how you die, or if you even get to move on, if you're lucky. </p><p>Then again, how often does Patrick get lucky?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Sings a Song,... unless It Hates You, then it Fucking Laughs at You

**Author's Note:**

> this was a challenge fic back in 2007, and was for a halloween ficathon ghost au. there are links to EVP's and video files, and I checked and they should still work. I fucking loved writing this fic. I still love this one. this was beta-ed by an ex-friend of mine, but also, because of how livejournal is set up, the original post was split, so honestly, all mistakes are mine.

Patrick, as it were, was less than thrilled. He was freaked out, beyond freaked, scared out of his ever fucking mind, in fucking Gettysburg, all because Gerard was bored and wanted to do a new “project” for the paper they both worked for back in New Jersey. Thinking back, to when Gerard brought this up a couple of days ago, Patrick wished he had the balls to tell Gerard to fuck off, but no, he got all into this as well. And now, he was alone in their hotel room, bed shaking, that same laugh engulfing him, not knowing what the hell he should be doing about any of this. 

Fuck Gerard for finding this “Coolest fucking thing _ever_ ”.

***

[omgeeeisdying 11:00 am] oh fuck you very much, I know you aren't at lunch  
[patricksaves 11:00 am] [ auto message subway eats fresh and so do I]  
[patricksaves 11:01 am] fucking know me too fucking well. The fuck do you want?  
[omgeeisdying 11:04 am] stuff.  
[patricksaves 11:05 am ] [auto message gee can kick my amazingly white ass, at lunch motherfuckers.]  
[omgeeisdying 11:07 am] asshole, whatever.. i'll just go and find you, I have the coolest fucking thing/idea ever too show you.  
[patricksaves 11:11 am] I know you didn't come find me, you fucking bitch. I got you a sandwich, douche.  
[omgdeeisdying 11:12 am] you're right, I didn't go looking for you cause you always come back to me.  
[patricksaves 11:15 am] is a grilled eggplant sandwich?  
[omgeeisdying 11:16 am] [auto message patrick might just be my one true love.]  
[patricksaves 11:22 am] why the shit do I even bother?

Gerard was there before Patrick had even finished typing. “You said something about eggplant, and it being grilled and made of wonderful?”

“Yes, and fuck you very much, I'm way to nice to you.”

“It's because you love me and really want to have hot kinky sex with me.”

“Oh yes, that's it. 'More Gerard, harder, please baby, I need it'. You mean like that? Been there baby.” Patrick, for his part, made sure to sound as breathy as possible. 

Gerard blushed. Patrick did a little victory dance inside his head. He made Gerard blush. That was a wonderful feat, right there. 

“Hrm, maybe after lunch Patrick. Anyway, cool news! We're going to Gettysburg!” Gerard sounded so excited, it was unreal, and really pissed Patrick off. 

“The shit? What, no, Fuck that, hell no. Why do you always drag me along? Why? Please, for the love of Jesus, answer me.” Patrick, was not amused. 

Gerard, for his part, was grinning like a loon. But, then again, this is Gerard, and Patrick knew just how crazy he was. “Yeah, Gettysburg. I was like, looking for a new story, and I somehow find  this video. 

“Oh, of course, you just happened to find it, right? You didn't just go looking for it, did you?”

“Patrick, we are both reporters here, I'm not going to change my story.” Gerard sound, well, not happy, but very close to it. “I sent you a link.”

“Give me an idea of what I'm about to see.” Patrick knew though, that Gerard would never do that.

“No, I don't think that will do. You should watch it throughly, though. So you know what we will be researching, while there, well, other than just be there, I guess.” Now Gerard did sound happy, which fully freaked Patrick out. 

So, Patrick turned back to his trusty MacPro, and clicked the damn link Gerard had sent him. 

It was dark at first, and there were people talking, some hickish sounding man and wife, he supposed. The video itself was very grainy, and then there was a flash out light on the left side of the screen, but before he could take a proper look, he saw what was a man, walking between the tree. Dressed like a fucking soldier. But, before he could get over the shock of seeing just one supposed ghost, there was two more, and now the family in the video has noticed them as well. 

The goosebumps on Patrick's flesh were rather odd, because he never really put much stock in this stuff before, he assumed people thought they were seeing ghosts, but it was a hoax, or the person was crazy. Somewhere in there. 

In the end, after watching the clip at least five full times, he had counted 13 separate ghosts, some of them so close up you see their faces. He turned to Gerard, who still had that look of pure joy on his face, but with a slightly manic edge to it now. 

Patrick just turned slowly back around, and watched the clip again. And then once more for good luck. Yup, it was either 13 ghosts, or one really super playful one. 

Gerard clapped his hands behind him, which Patrick hated to admit made him jump, just a little. “So, I emailed these people, and they are sending me a map of the exact location, plus records of having their film looked over by the fucking FBI or something.” He was near shouting now, Gerard was that excited. “Plus! I found more cool shit. EVPS and shit, look it UP asshole,” Patrick had given him a look, “ other vids and pics form all over that fucking place.”

When he finished, Gerard looked smug. 

******

Patrick blanched a little. “But, hasn't this already been done? 'Local Reporters go to Ghostville for a laugh?” At the very least, that's what Patrick was hoping for, but he really did know better.

“No, not at all.” Gerard didn't laugh, or even crack a smile. “Oh no, nothing like that at all.”

“ Then, can you please tell me what the fuck are we doing then?” Patrick had really hoped starting, and ending the sentence with the same word would differ Gerard a little.

Of course it wouldn't. But then again, it was always worth a shot. “Please?”

“Indue time.” Gerard was back to being all grins again. “Start packing, we're leaving tomorrow morning. And yes, I really mean it. Oh, hey, I'll send you some links or something, ok? EVPS, more photos. You really need to try and prepare yourself, ok? Please. Oh man, I'm going to fucking love this project.”

“And I'm just along for the fucking ride, aren't I?” 

“Oh no, I think this will end up meaning a lot to you as well.” 

Patrick looked dumbstruck when Gerard fucking skipped away. He took a sip of his rootbeer, and really didn't feel like eating anymore, at all. 

[patricksaves 1:22 PM] auto message [ghost, srsly?”]  
[omgeeisdying 1:22 PM] oh fuck you, you know you love this. Also, here are the links if you have the time right now. Oh favour, click the third link first.  
http://www.gettysburgghostresearch.org/ggr_008.htm  
http://spiritsearchers.homestead.com/audio.html  
http://www.angelsghosts.com/antelope_valley_evp_recordings.html

Patrick assumed he meant the third link on the first page, so, that's what he went for. He turned his speakers on, and looked, and clicked, and listened. He wanted to scream, but he controlled himself. He heard it. He heard something just not right say “help me”. He started listening to more of them, and clicking on the other links. Some of them felt like true fakes, but others made chills go up and down his spine. One was “please, don't you worry about me,” nearly made Patrick cry. He felt like he knew that voice, but couldn't place it. Other one was, “yeah, it hurts.” That just freaked him out. And “death bring a song,” and oh god, so many others. He didn't listen to all of them, he couldn't. He also really wanted to kill Gerard for ever making him listen to them in the first place. Because honestly? He was fucking terrified. 

[patricksaves 2:02 pm] you, you fucking asshole, I honestly don't think I can do this.  
[omgeeisdying 2:02 pm auto message] fuck you, yes you can do this. ps- I can read your bald little mind.

Patrick was really trying not to throw a full on two year old style fit. He was trully, and throughly fucked. Fucking going to Gettysburg, with Gerard. Being in a car for something like four hours with him? Oh hell no. 

[patricksaves 2:04 pm] we are taking separate cars, srsly, i'm not spending 4 hours in a car with you.  
[omgeeisdying 2:06 pm] well, a- fuck you. b- I know dickhead, all the shit we have to bring? We are going to need two cars. Plus, I hate most of your music, so stop being a douche, I already know all of this.  
[patricksaves 2:10 pm] well, you have certainly thought this out, so, um, when do you.. we leave?  
[omgeeisdying 2:11 pm] tomorrow morning, pack everything you think you might want, and I would leave early if I were you, I know I am.  
[patricksaves 2:15 pm] I fucking hate you.  
[omgeeisdying 2:17 pm] but you'll suck my cock. Funny how that works out.  
[omgeeisdying 2:19 pm] what, no witty remark? I feel so cheated.  
[patricksaves 2:19 pm auto message] not anymore. Funny how that works out.  
[omgisdying 2:20 pm] fuck you too. 

****

So, about ten minutes later, Patrick left for the day, with his boss, Gabe, yelling that he wanted daily reports, and Patrick telling him sure, whatever. 

When Patrick got home, he noticed that he really had no idea what to pack for this stupid ghost hunting trip. However, he refused to call Gerard and ask for help, honestly, refused too. If he forgot anything, he could always just blame Gerard for it, so, he figured what the hell, and just packed everything of his he could find. 

But, four hours later, and several internet searches in, he figured he really should pack everything. His computer, his tape recorder, even his little mini camera/recorder, and of course his trusty laptop. He also charged his cell phone, and sidekick, and found his extra battery to his computer, and cooked a pizza. He felt like he should be done packing, and then he nearly forgot adding clothes into the mix, and found everything that was clean, and threw that in to another duffle bag as well. As he sat down to watch Dr. Phil, and really thought about calling Gerard, only to ask him when they were leaving, and where they were meeting. 

“Seven AM, your place. Deal, pussy. Pack enough clothes and shit for at the most? Two weeks. And bring some extra blankets and pillows.” With that, Gerard hung up. 

So, Patrick went over everything he packed, twice. He made sure he had enough socks, and all that junk for two weeks. Even did a few loads of laundry to make sure he had enough jeans and shirts. And hats. Lots of hats. 

**

That night, Patrick had the weirdest dream ever. He couldn’t really remember the details, but what he could remember, there was a short, almost as short as him, man; with very dark hair, plus he was rather tanned. All Patrick see was the back of him, and Patrick had honestly tried to see his face. He chased the man around in circles, but the man would only laugh and shake his head. The part that really got to Patrick, is that now he was awake, he could still heard the laughing. Then it hit him, there was laughing in the room, right in his ear, and he could feel the breath of that man curling around his ear, and it didn’t stop when he opened his eyes. In fact, it got louder, and braver. 

Patrick couldn’t find his breath to even scream, or the energy to move. He was paralyzed, all from someone laughing. How fucked was that?

What felt like a minutes, but it was only a few seconds later, the laughter died down, but Patrick still couldn't move. It was 5:30 in the fucking morning, the time Patrick knew he had to wake up to shower, and do all that last minute stuff before Gerard got there, but no alarm went off. In fact, Patrick noticed nothing was turned on, everything was off, and, his room was fucking cold. So cold that he could see his breath. Sure, it was early April, and yes, it could be chilly? But this cold? No.

He felt his room starting to warm back up, and everything started turning back on, he looked at his watch, and it was 5:35. 

Patrick really had no idea what to do. He got up, went to his kitchen, saw that everything was all fucked up, cabinet doors open, everything, and wanted to scream. Instead, he turned around, towards his bathroom, and felt that taking a nice hot shower would be just damn near perfect right now. 

“Oh Jesus fuck, what the shit am I getting into?” He said as he turned on the water, and stepped in. 

Patrick honestly was so grateful that nothing answered him back. 

About an hour later, Patrick was showered, dressed, and ate a little, and was waiting outside for Gerard. Sure, he knew it was a little early, but you know, he really didn't feel like hanging about in his place much longer. He even had everything packed in his car, even had time for three cups of coffee and a bagel. All he needed was Gerard to show the fuck up.

He nearly screamed with delight when Gerard showed up about five minutes early. The relief must have showed on his face because Gerard a puzzled look. “You're ready? Honestly?”

“Well, I need to make sure my oven is really turned off and the lye covers that body in my tub so it doesn't start to smell, but other than that, yeah.”

“Dude, this is like, a first. You ready! On time! Not just on time, but early!”

While driving away from his complex, Patrick couldn't help but think that he would never be alone anymore. It should have been a very comforting thought, but honestly? It really creeped Patrick the fuck out. 

When they were nearly in Delaware, Patrick finally called Gerard to tell him to pull the fuck over, he was really hungry, and needed to pee so bad.

“Oh you fucking pussy., we're so fucking close! Just, alright, there's an Ihop, pull over there. We'll talk game plan as well.”

Gerard, Patrick has noted, was laughing really, really hard. 

Patrick had been thinking about what he was doing. He felt that, from the start, this was one of Gerard's Really Bad Ideas... plus, add in the laughing and all the other crazy shit that just happened at his place, yeah, Patrick wanted some idea of what was going on. 

By the time Patrick got to Ihop, Gerard had already been sitting down, with two cups of coffee in front of him. Patrick quickly by passed him and ran to the bathroom, then came back to his friend. 

“For the love of God, I hope you washed your hands. It's pretty awful in there.”

“I did, asshole.”

“Good. Ok, so, Patrick, I can tell you are pissed off, just, look. You've have known me for a long time, why would I ask you to go if I didn't know what I was doing?”

This was one of those time that Patrick really felt like Gerard could read his mind. “Yeah? Ok, so, game plan then? You may know what we are going to do, but I don't. “

“Don't pout Patrick. Really, don't. I won't tell you much anyway, you know that's not how I work." 

“Yes, asshole, I know that's how you work. But can you just give me an overview? I don't want to play this blind leading the blind game." 

Gerard smiled, and Patrick fought his urge to stab him in the with a spoon, or something. 

“No use Patrick. I know what we are fucking doing, so try not to worry, alright? Just, try and trust me.”

“Oh how about hell no? The last time I trusted you I ended up in the Pine Barrens naked in a tent by myself, you fucking douche bag.”

“Haha, oh God, I had forgotten about that! That was great! Fucking classic man. And, I did come back for you! So, really, you don't have any reason not to trust me.”

“Oh Jesus, God. You honestly think because you came back for me when it was light out that means I should trust you? You asshole.”

“That's the spirit.”

Patrick and Gerard finished their coffee in silence.

*****

They left after their first cup, but before Patrick could get back in his car, Gerard had yelled, “Did you even look up where we are going?”

Patrick shook his head.

“Good, that's what I was hoping for. Just keep following me, we are nearly there.”

Patrick just nodded, and geared himself up for one of Gerard's Most Awesome Ideas Ever. However, Patrick did get to thinking about that little trip. Gerard had called it a Happy Fun Time Camping trip, and they had been dating for about a year, so, yes, Patrick did trust him. Plus, he didn't think anything about going to the Pine Barrens. He wasn't a Jersey Boy. No, Patrick was from Chicago, went to NYU, met Gerard, and somehow now lived in New Jersey. So, they go camping, right in the thick of the Barrens, near the Leeds Graveyard. Patrick remembers Gerard's face now, like he couldn't believe he got Patrick to agree to all of this. This all happened last April, and now Patrick could see a pattern in Gerard. 

Ok, Patrick knew he should have asked Gerard was the deal was, but he loved and trusted him, so he didn't. He didn't ask any questions about being in a tent, with no clothes on, with just a little space heater, all Patrick wanted was to spend a wonderful night in the woods with his, ok, no, they weren't really dating. They were having lots of sex and sometimes passing out at each others places, but really, they saw each other as friends. Or that's what Gerard kept telling him when Patrick tried to have _the talk_

Gerard had said the magic phrase, “But don't you trust me?” shit on Patrick, and he fell for it. Then Gerard starts telling Patrick the story of the Jersey Devil, and Patrick just scoffs. He felt like Gerard was just trying to take the piss out of him. After Gerard told the story, he said he left something in the car, and went to go get it. At that time, it was still light out. 

It was around ten pm, pitch fucking black outside and some weird noises like fucking HOOVES circling around the tent did Patrick realized that Gerard wasn't coming back. 

From then on the phrase, “Trust me, “ meant nothing to Patrick. When 6 AM rolled around, a scared Patrick attacked Gerard when he entered the tent. Gerard laughed and said it was supposed to be fun, but why the hell are there huge scratches on the sides of the tent? Patrick punched him in the neck and said he wanted to go home _right the fuck now_. 

Gerard hadn't made any of the noises, or marks or anything, in fact, several people told Patrick he was in the city at a bar laughing with some friends about what he got Patrick to do. 

Around that time Patrick dropped the sex part (if not the being sort of in love with part) of the relationship, and wanted to be just friends with Gerard. 

Patrick wanted out. He saw the sign that said Gettysburg was super close, and he wanted to turn around and go home. Where, ok, it wasn't really safe, but, he was better than whatever was waiting for him here. 

Like Gerard said, about an hour later, they were there. He followed Gerard to the Gettysburg Hotel, and parked. Gerard quickly drug Patrick out of his car, and pulled him to a shop close by. Apparently, they wouldn't be staying there. 

Gerard dragged Patrick into a cute little shop, and before Patrick could look around, Gerard started screaming, “Look how fucking CUTE this is!” and Patrick just followed behind him, just wanting to shower, and maybe take a nap. 

“Oh Jesus, GERARD! Ok, we'll be here for at least a week, why don't head back to the hotel, or something?”

Gerard looked thoughtful for a minute, quircked his head to the side, which, made him look even more childlike than normal, and finally nodded. He just put whatever he had back down, and walked out. 

Patrick tried to hide a smile. One thing he really did love about Gerard was his flair for drama, mostly, because that was something Patrick didn't have in himself. 

“Ok, so, you are so going to get mad at me, but I changed our hotel.” Gerard tried to say this as nonchalantly as possible. 

“Oh, oh fuck you. If this is another Happy Time Camping Trip, I'm going to fuck you up so bad.”

“No, no tents. I learned my lesson. However, we are staying at a B&B, out near one of the main battlefields. It's called Cashtown Inn. ”

“Um. Ok. Just, remember my rule. No touching under the covers.”

“Oh, but young Patrick, no touching? But, only under the covers? I think I can deal with that.”

“That means no touching of any kind. And I mean it douche bag.”

“Yes, but only under the covers. And I call done-ez on what I can, or can't do on top of the covers, or anywhere else for that matter.”

“Gerard, please, not this thing again.”

“Oh, don't worry. We're on like, vacation. It's not a thing. We don't have to worry if things will be all fucked up when we get back because they won't be. 

“Oh, wow, you have thought about this, haven't you?”

“Yup.”

“OK, then.”

They had reached their cars, and Gerard led them off to the Inn. That was one of those things about Gerard that Patrick really hated. Nothing ever just happened, it was all planned. And Patrick? He really liked being surprised.

However? Gerard wanting him again, was a big fuck all surprise. He had assumed that it was, you know, over. That they could just be friends with out having sex. 

Patrick had felt fucked this whole time, but this was like, the icing on the cake. It's not like Patrick had his pick of guys to fuck, but he knew doing anything with Gerard would be a Really Bad Idea. But, Gerard had that manic glint in his eyes, and Patrick just knew he would be fucked. Honestly, fucked. 

The ride to the Inn was fast and slow all at once. Too many thoughts were going through Patrick's head. Knowing he would be sharing a bed with Gerard, just being in fucking Gettysburg, and that fucking laugh. Now that Patrick would allow himself to think about it, it felt like the laugh was mocking him. Like this stupid disembodied voice just knew how this next week would go down.

Oddly though, Patrick smiled. It was as close to a comforting thought, that someone did know Patrick's life well enough to laugh at it. And just as fast, he got so pissed off about it, but, before he could get really heated, Gerard knocked on his window, all grins and shit. 

Patrick's heart started beating a little faster, except it didn't really feel like it was his own. Putting all those emotions aside, Patrick got out of his car, and started collecting his bags and stuff, and followed Gerard. 

“Hey, Patrick, are you ok? You seem odd. Down maybe? I don't know, Maybe you just really need a nap, did you sleep well? Anyway, listen, I've checked us in, and it's in the honeymoon suite. So, um, hold my hand and act like you love me.”

There it was. “Did. You! You fucking planned all of this, didn't you? Fucking Christ Gerard!” Hey, look, his anger was back. 

“Hey, we are in the country, try to back off the cussing a little bit. I'm not really in the mood for this.”

Patrick was almost fucking livid, how fucking DARE Gerard get pissy with him. “Oh, fuck you! No, really. You. Oh God, fine, whatever. But this so isn't over, _sweetheart_.”

“Now now, play nice, darling.”

Yup, livid. Patrick was nearly shaking with anger, and Gerard just smirked and grabbed at Patrick's hand and laced their fingers together.”

Gerard's shark smile was matched by Patrick's. 

The woman at the front and smiles and giggling, but Patrick didn't pay attention to her. He was staring at some old picture that had caught his eye. He felt like he knew the person in the photo, that old feeling of deja vu had set in. He let go of Gerard's hand and moved closer, he could vaguely hear Gerard say, “Oh. Don't mind him, he gets all spacey most of the time.”

Patrick's nose was almost touching the photograph, he knew this was the man he had dreamed about. He drank in the man's features. High cheekbones, big eyes, rather large lips that were cracked into something of an impish smile. He's heart skipped a beat or six. He knew that if this guy was alive, he would totally be into him. Knowing that stung a little. 

 

Gerard appeared beside him, looking so amazingly calm, that it unnerved Patrick a little. “Well, we're in luck _Tricky_ , we are staying in Pete's old room. Plus, you can so see large parts of the main battlefield at night, for some reason. So, we won't be sleeping at all. So you know. “ With that Gerard walked away with the bags. 

Patrick was really super confused as to why Gerard was using his pet name so hatefully. He glanced back at the photo before he trailed behind the older man. He did get the man in the pictures full name. 

“Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III 1833-1862”

Somehow, Patrick felt like he just knew that. He almost ran into Gerard when he turned around, “Hey, dude, watch out. Also, thanks for coming back, I don't know where the room is.”

“It's almost at the attic, Tricky.”

“Because, you know, that's so helpful.”

“Just, whatever, follow me, ok?”

“Whatever. Hey, please stop calling me Tricky. It doesn't mean the same thing anymore.” Patrick felt awful having to say that. But, hearing Gerard say with so much, malice, when it used to be so special, was just torture. Gerard used to say it when he was ready to make love, or just felt overly lovey. 

“I don't know what you mean baby. Come on, let's take a nap or some thing. We have a couple of long day's ahead of us.”

“Um, sure.” Patrick was now feeling extremely uneasy about all of this. 

“Good.” Gerard grabbed Patrick's hand again, and lead him up the stairs. 

Ok, really unsure. Glancing back at Pete, Patrick felt his flesh break out in goosebumps. Back to that old funny feeling, you know, the one you can only say in French? Yup, that one. 

Gerard squeezed his hand, “Hey, you sure you are cool with this? You are like, shaking and feel so cold.”

Concern. Oh shit, just what Patrick didn't want right now, because he knew Gerard's Five Steps to having a Crush. 

Step One. Over all flirting. And Patrick thought back a little when he had made Gerard blush with the sex stuff. Yup, flirting.  
Step Two. Aloofness. Yeah, that was there. The not really answering questions thing.  
Step Three. Some form of anger and denial. Motherfucking check, man.  
Step Four. Concern, or as close to it as Gerard gets.  
Step Five. The asking out of said crush. 

Gerard was almost at the last step. 

“So, hey, Patrick? Let's go get some coffee and junk before we start on our research.”

Ok, so, the word almost was useless now. 

“Um, ok.” Patrick shocked himself. He didn't add in the just as friends part, which, was shocking. 

Besides, dating Gerard again wouldn't be that bad of an idea, plus, it's not like Gerard wanted to really date, he just wanted to fuck. Patrick felt like he could handle that. Patrick's heart clenched up a little. He really did love Gerard at one time, but this was when all Gerard did was drink and doing so many different drugs, that Patrick had left him. He couldn't watch this man that he loved so much, so completely destroy himself. 

Gerard said it was Patrick leaving him that made him, forced him to go to rehab. That was the middle of last year, and they have stayed amazingly close friends since. So, yeah, the idea of a sober Gerard wanting to be with him kind of made Patrick's stomach flip.

“Gerard, what's up with Pete's room? Like, the change of plans and shit? You so found something out, didn't you?”

Changing the subject was one of Patrick many talents. Including, but not limited too, amazing blow jobs. They were standing at the door to the room, and there was this little take one little pamphlet things on it. Gerard grabbed on and started reading. 

“Peter, (better known as Pete) lived in this room during the War. Pete however, didn't die in battle, he was shot in his bed the night before his 30th birthday by his best friend and fellow soldier, Micheal. People say they can see the events of that fateful night unfold in front of them, and other swear they see it in their dreams if they sleep here. So, visitor beware, there is ghostly activity in here!”

“Well, see, that's why I picked this room. So, um, I really hope you aren't upset.” Gerard sounded nerves, which was so unlike him. 

“No, not really. It, um, seems pretty interesting?” Patrick was able to hide his own nerves in his voice. 

“Ok, yeah, I was hoping you would see it my way. Listen, there is a list of all of the things we are going to conduct in this room. Just, read over it, and we'll talk about it later. After my nap or something.”

“Things? So scientific of you Gerard.”

“Oh yeah, I'm full of thoughts and stuff.”

“Oh yeah baby, hit me up with some more geek talk. Wait, no, on second thought, I'm going to walk around the town, check it out, get some maps.” Patrick just wanted to think. 

“Kay baby, seeya in an hour or whatever.” Gerard was already nearly asleep, so Patrick didn't think too much about the word baby. 

Patrick left quickly trying his best to not make a sound in the room. To be honest? The room freaked Patrick the fuck out. The idea of sleeping in the same bed that this Pete was murdered in? Truly made Patrick feel sick. 

Making his way downstairs, and out the door, Patrick thought that he might as well look over Gerard's plans. He wanted to know what he was getting into. Locating a coffee shop that was kind of on the other side of the road from the place, Patrick felt slightly better. Granted, he was still a bundle of nerves, like he always was in a new place, but it was mostly because he felt like he was being watched. No, not watched, but leered at. 

So, Patrick walked in, ordered himself a cafe mocha, (excuse him for liking his coffee and chocolate together) and picked a corner seat. Gerard's plans at first glance were so thought out, and he smiled. He wouldn't expect less of Gerard. 

“Ghost(s) in Gettysburg  
Plan 42 a- New Room. Peter Wentz's old room. Have a tape recorder on all the time.”

Patrick shivered, he didn't understand why there would be a breeze in here, it's not like the place was drafty, and they had a fire going, but he was cold again. He read on.

“Getting an infared video on in here as well. Should be interesting. The more I find out about how Pete died the more I am so glad I changed plans.”

Patrick's spine felt like it was crawling, and he noticed that people in the little cafe` were starting to stare at him. He must be twitching more than he thought he had.

“Need to find out more about Micheal Way as well.”

Ok, now this time, Patrick KNEW someone had just blew in his ear. “Stop it.. Pete.” Patrick felt so stupid saying it, but, he knew that was what or who was annoying him. 

Patrick heard a soft giggle, and the word “no”, but the air around him warmed back up. “Thanks, I'm trying to study you before Gerard wakes up.”

The words showed up on the pages seconds after Patrick finished speaking. 

“Hope I'm interesting enough for you!”

Patrick reacted as calmly as he could. He put all the papers back into a neat pile, groped blindly for a pen, until he remembered he didn't even _have_ a pen with him. He took a deep breath, and looked back down at the notebook. The writing was still there, but the word, “hahahahaha”, was under that now. 

“Fuck you Pete, that's not nice.” Finally, Patrick grabbed his coffee and left. 

Gerard was still asleep when Patrick got back to Cashtown. “Gerard, hey, HEY, wake the fuck up! Come one fatass, move it! We totally need to fucking talk, and now.” Patrick felt that he really was doing a great job of sounding calm. 

“Hey, hey. Can't stand to be alone, huh?” 

Patrick launched into what happened to him today, just now, at the coffee shop. Gerard looked skepitcal, but excited as well. By the time Patrick was finished with his tale, he was sitting across from Gerard on the bed. Then Patrick told him everything. The dream, the unsettling laughing – all of it. Gerard nodded a few times, but mostly he watched Patrick's face, apparently trying to figure out if Patrick was lying or not. 

When Patrick was done, Gerard took a minute before he spoke. “Alright. Show me.” And he stuck out his hand. 

Patrick handed him the paper. 

Gerard stared blankly at it for a minute or two, and then smiled. “Well, it's so not your handwriting, and I really love that this is on the page that I wrote, 'is this worth it?' on the bottom.”

“I hadn't noticed.” Patrick said flatly.

“Well, he did.”

“Alright, I'm glad he did? I guess, but what does this all mean?” Patrick was becoming very frustrated.

“Patrick, my love, this doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it too. That's always been your biggest flaw, always trying to find some meaning in everything... oh, whoa. I've recorded something.”

“Excuse me? Do what now?”

“On the tape thingy. I turned it on before I took my nap.”

“Right, and that couldn't possibly be us talking, right?”

“Not for the past two hours, I'd say no. Hey, let's get some food, I'm hungry.”

“But, the tape? Don't you want to check it?”

“I'd rather wait a few more hours, ok? I want to try to study the whole day at one go at a time.”

“Right.”

“I wonder if they have vegan friendly places here.”

“You know, I bet not, if only to piss you off, Gerard.”

“Whatever, let's go.”

A couple of hours later, and they had found a place that would cater to Gerard's little vegan phase, thing, whatever it was. They sat down at this little booth, and the waiter comes rather fast to ask for their drinks. 

“I'll have a coffee, I think.”

“Um, Gerard, would you be really pissed if I got a beer? I could kind of use one right now.” Patrick hated drinking in front of Gerard, but he felt like he needed a damn beer, sue him, ok. 

“Whatever, it's fine.” However, Gerard's tone was more of 'don't you fucking dare'.

“Ok, um, do you have, no, wait, what do you think I should try?” Ok, so, Patrick was sort of pushing Gerard's buttons, but he didn't care.

“Depends on what you want, sir. If you like ales, I would recommend the  Dead Guy Ale, or you know, if you like just normal beers,  Fat Tire  is always good. Or  Pete's Wicked Ale. All are good, but those are my favourites.”

“Well, I guess I'll try the Pete's Wicked Ale, keep in the spirit of things.”

“Wonderful choice sir. I'll be back in moment with your drinks.”

Gerard glared at Patrick. “No fair. Honestly, no. Dead Guy Ale? That's so awesome.”

“Yes, well.”

Their drinks arrived, and Gerard ordered something with pasta and sauce, and Patrick ordered the same, he really didn't feel like making any choices right now. Their food arrived, and Patrick and Gerard ate in pure silence. When they finished, Patrick ordered himself another beer, and Gerard got himself cake, or at least, what sounded like cake to Patrick. 

“So, babe, here's the deal. Or at least, what I have thought out. We are going to stay here for a couple of days, because honestly? I don't think I can handle a week of this. I had a bad dream when I took my nap, and no, I don't want to talk about, but I don't think I can stand being here longer then two or three days. Besides, we already have some proof.” Gerard honestly sounded like he wanted to leave now, but Patrick knew he too well. He would see this thing to the very end, whatever that may be. 

“Um, ok. Besides, I'm going on whatever you tell me, so I can't really disagree, now can I? Frankly, I want to leave right now.”

“No, I won't do that. I want some good photos or something first, alright? Are you done yet? I want to get out to Devil's Den. I hear it's just teaming with ghosts.”

There's that note of crazy Patrick had been missing this whole time. Gerard, bless him, was slightly insane. 

“Alright. Let's go. Tell me we don't have to go back to the Inn to get your stuff.”

“Nope.”

“Let's roll cowboy.”

“Oh God, Patrick, never say that again.”

They left, and started out towards Devil's Den. It was almost dark out, and Patrick so badly wanted to go home right now. It took a bit to get out there. Onto the main battlefield, and down some weird street, and then Gerard parked. “Alright, we have to walk from here.”

“Great, and you said this wasn't one of you Camping Trips.” Patrick was now moody.

“Yeah, and I meant it. I sure as fuck don't want to stay out here.”

So they walked, and walked. And finally, FINALLY they got there. It was just past dusk, very little light was still out, but Patrick could tell how beautiful this place was. “Wow.”

“Yeah. This is where that famous photographer took those photo's where he moved the bodies around to look better. Well, one of them.”

“Ok, so, what? Are we taking pictures, EVP? What's going on now?”

“Both, so, start taking pictures at random, while I do the EVP.”

So, Patrick did. He would aim, and click, aim, and click. He never checked his photos, he was too scared to, honestly. He had walked a little away from Gerard, so he could barely hear him ask some random question. All of ten minutes later, Gerard came running back to him. 

“We have to go, now.”

Patrick didn't need telling twice, he just ran along side Gerard. He didn't need to ask what happened, Gerard would tell him when he wanted to, but anything that could scare Gerard, Patrick didn't even know if he wanted to hear about it. 

“So. I saw something. It was, a guy, standing on one of the rocks, pointing towards you, and then I heard this laughing. I have no idea why, but I felt like I needed to get you out of there really fast, like something was going to happen to you.” Gerard still sounded scared. 

Oh yeah, Patrick really didn't want to hear about this. He knew this would be bad. Very bad. “Really?”

“No, I'm lying. This is all a dream and your mom wants you to come home soon for dinner and stuff.”

“Ok, wow, asshole. I just, what the fuck man? I see this guy in my dreams, he follows me, and then apparently, gives you signs to watch out for me. So, really, again I ask, what the fuck?” 

“Yeah. So, want to get coffee? Or fuck. Who knows.” Gerard said with a shrug.

“Um, I wouldn't say no to some coffee, but the sex? I'll think about.” 

“Suit yourself.”

They didn't talk the whole way back to Cashtown. Until the reached the front desk, Gerard whispers saying he would be right up, and don't wait for him, he just wants to leave the front desk a note. And get the coffee. 

Patrick nodded, and made his way up to their room. The door was already opened, and Patrick sighed a little, thanking Pete silently for doing him such a favour, 'till he walked in, and everything in the room, was completely fucking trashed. 

He didn't have the energy to scream, yell, make any sort of noise, he just fell to the floor and started crying. And not just any sort of crying, it's one of those special ones that have the huge gasping sobs mixed in. He just didn't care anymore, he wanted to go _home_. Go home, and start the process of removing this memory from his brain. 

Gerard found him laying on the floor, crying, and he knew he must look pretty fucking sad if the older guy didn't have any remarks for him about it. “Patrick, hey, Patrick. Calm down, ok. I know you need to get some sleep, but, we need to talk. It's about the dream, and the EVP I just got, and the one from earlier, and well... just, man up, for a bit, ok? And then you can cry as much as you want on my shoulder, I promise.”

Patrick sniffed and nodded his head. He had forgotten he was taking pictures out there, and felt like he needed to look. “Ok. Um, I want to look and see if I got anything on my pictures first, ok?”

Gerard nodded, and bent down to help Patrick up, and onto the bed. 

Patrick started going through the little pictures on the screen. All of them had some orb like thing in them, but the last one was Pete's face. 

Gerard was able to take the camera away before Patrick was able to throw it. “Patrick, no, calm down. You have to, don't go all two year old on me, we have to figure this out, ok?”

Patrick found his voice, “Oh, oh fuck no. No, no. No. We don't have to figure out shit! You said just a few hours ago, that nothing has to mean _something_. Right? I found that I'm perfectly happy not finding out why I'm being a stalked by a fucking ghost.”

The bed started to shake. 

“Patrick, really? You honestly chose this time to listen to me? Because _honey_ , you picked the wrong mother fucking time to do it.”

The bed felt like it was bouncing on the floor. Up, down, shake. Up, down, shake. 

“Gerard? I want to leave here. Please. Please don't make me stay the night here, please tell me we are going to just sleep in the fucking car, cause I can't, I can't fucking do this right now.”

Up, down, shake, thrust into the wall.

“No, I'm thinking, we have to wait this out, ok?”

“But why? Why Gee, please tell me why.” Patrick started crying again. 

Updownshakethrust. 

“Because, because we have to. We need to listen to the tapes, ok? Let's just do that, and then we can go, I promise. I promise.” Gerard sounded like he might cry, and started clinging onto Patrick as well. Patrick curled into him. 

Up, down, shake, _spin_.  
Updownshakespine, updownshakespin.

“Just play them, fucking do it.”

Gerard didn't need to be told twice. 

At first, there was Patrick saying bye, or whatever, and then nothing. Gerard's light snores, but nothing else. Then, oh then, there was Pete. 

“ _Don't ever leave me, don't you dare do that to me again._ ”

Updownshakethrustspinspinspin.

“ _I promise Pete, I promise I won't, ok, just, calm down. It's a war, some of us have to fight, you know._ ”

“ _I understand that, Way, but, you know, I hate being alone. I feel like I'm being followed.”_

_“Oh, not that shit again, just, come on, we have to go to the field.”_

The bed stopped moving. 

“We'll,” Gerard started, “that's explains nothing, really.”

Then the bed felt, cold, icy cold. “Gerard, you spoke to soon.”

“ _What is the heavens? WAY! Why do you keep laughing at night? WHY, just, tell me, ok? I won't put you on punishment or anything, I promise.”_

Patrick reached out and stopped the tape. He felt like, he didn't need to hear the rest of it, at all, because he could see it, in front of him.

 

Patrick was, now, back to where he started, in his thoughts. Being in this awful room, with the bed shaking, and fucking spinning, and that fucking laughter was back. 

And Gerard wouldn't let go of him. “Is this real?”

Patrick forced out a small laugh. “Of course it's real, what else could this be? Did you drink the kool-aid, huh?”

Gerard smiled, and they both turned their attention back to the scene unfolding before them. 

_There was Pete, standing up, over by the door, he looked so very upset, and he kept looking around wildly. He finally just wretched open his door, and looked out in the hall. Apparently not seeing anything there, he slammed his door shut, and went over to a little chair near the window, and flopped onto it. Just as the young man closed his eyes, the door opens up, slowly, but Pete jumps as if he flew open._

_Micheal walked in, slowly, just staring at Pete. Malice was coming off of him in waves, eyes dancing from Pete to the bed to the window, then back to Pete. “Peter. Why?”_

_Pete's reaction was like someone has shot him, it was so dramatic. He jumped from the chair, right into Micheal's face. “You know why. Don't ask me again.”_

_Micheal looked as if he could spit in Pete's face, instead he shoved him, and Pete fell onto the bed. “You, you know I don't love you the way you want me to. I can't always be here for you! Don't make me do this Pete, don't make me do it.”_

_Micheal had pulled out a gun._

Patrick chanced a glance at Gerard, who was crying now, and trying to move off the bed slowly. Where Pete had fallen was very close to where Gerard had been. “No, no, no, make it stop Patrick please, make it stop. We can't finish watching this Patrick, something bad will happen baby. Please, make it stop NOW.”

Patrick just held onto Gerard hard, clutching at the older man, trying to figure out what the living fuck he should do. 

_Pete looked gobsmacked. “You, you're a liar Mikey. You said you wanted to be with me, forever, did you not? Didn't say it! Don't lie to me anymore Mikey.”_

_Mikey smiled. “Peter, we have very different definitions of the word, forever, I think.”_

Updownshakethrustspin, Gerard started bawling. Patrick started shaking. 

Both screamed at the sound of the gun firing. Patrick had closed his eyes, he couldn't watch, he couldn't handle seeing that, ever. Even when the person is already dead, he couldn't stand the thought of watching someone die. 

_Pete's breathing stop fast, he keeps clutching at his chest, not understanding what happened, why it happened. He just wanted Mikey to be honest with him, love him. To be all the things he said he was, swore he was, through chaste kisses and quick touches, and everything. He looked at Mikey, with huge pleading eyes, he didn't have any breath to ask the question, but they both knew what Peter had wanted to ask._

_“I meant your forever Peter Wentz, not mine.”_

_And Micheal walked away, and shut the door softly._

_The Pete's face never got the calm look some got when they died, he looked anguished. Terrified. Then his body stopped moving._

The room started warming back up, Patrick cried out, he couldn't believe he just lived through that, and he grabbed at Gerard so hard, he knew he left bruises. “We, we did it baby. We lived, let's go, and now, please. We'll tell Gabe it's all a bust, they lied, anything, ok?”

Gerard didn't answer back. In fact, Patrick couldn't hear Gerard's.. anything. He couldn't hear Gerard anymore. 

“NO, no, OH GOD HELP ME. HELP, PLEASE, SOMEONE, HELP ME!” He flipped Gerard onto his back, grabbing at him, clawing at him, trying everything he could think of to just _bring him back_. 

Gerard's face, looked peaceful. 

Patrick refused to let go when other's staying at the Inn came in. The owners couldn't remove him, no one could. He just kept saying, “I'm sorry baby, I didn't know what to do, please baby forgive me! Please, oh God, Gerard, please forgive me.”

He heard that laughter again, and passed out. 

*****

It had been two weeks since Gerard's wake and funeral. Patrick hadn't talk to anyone. He quit his job the moment he got back to Jersey, and went over to Gerard's place.

The door unlocked for him. He knew he was home. He spent the next week moving all of his stuff in, and making sure he didn't get rid of anything that Gerard would be pissed off about. He had the feeling he was never alone, and unlike the first time he felt that, this was .. good. He knew he would be safe here. 

The doctor's said Gerard had a seizure, that there way nothing Patrick could have done to save him, but Patrick knew better. He knew. He knew if he had just told Gerard the truth, and forced Gerard to hear him, he would be alive. It took Patrick ages to figure that as much as he felt that way, it was most likely the truth. 

It had been a month before he would call Cashtown and ask them to mail whatever he left there, but the Inn already did, the day before. 

He felt like he was wanting for some sick version of Christmas, because he didn't want to know what was on those tapes, he really didn't. It was like getting every gift you never asked for, prayed that you wouldn't get. Seeing all of Gerard's notes, all of it, brought back those under the surface feelings. 

He just went to bed and cried. Sobbed until he couldn't breathe, that he couldn't make a sound anymore. He stopped when he felt a hand touching his low back, massaging him a little. He knew that hand, it was Gerard's. 

_”Tricky, baby, when death wants you, it always finds a way. It was never you. Ever._ ”

“No, I don't believe that.”

_”Wow, even in death you refuse to give me the benefit of the doubt. Then why did I die Patrick? Tell me.”_

“Because I didn't listen to you, that's why.”

_”Poor Patrick, you shouldn't worry about that, I'm ok now. Really, I get to sit around all day and watch you. This is my heaven.”_

Patrick laughed a little.

_”See, that's the ticket. You won't ever be alone Patrick, ever, do you understand?”_

“Yes.”

Patrick felt Gerard hug him, and then nothing. The room warmed back up, and Patrick felt like he could start living his life again. 

From that point on, when something wrong or bad happened to him, he would say something like, “Oh fuck you Pete, thanks,” and when something good or whatever happened, he would thank Gerard. 

The strange looks never bothered him, he was used to him. The only thing that ever bothered him was sometimes? He would hear that laughing again, but now, he knew what it meant. 

Gerard had once told him to get busy living, or get busy dying. He didn't know which one he was doing, but at least, he wouldn't be alone in it, ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> i spent two months researching this fic when i was in beauty school, while i was supposed to be perming someones hair, or hell even colouring my own or pawning off pedicures to others because omg feet are gross, i would be in the back handwriting this out. it's the longest fic i've ever written, and most likely truly my favorite. it was also the last full fic i wrote, really. well, posted. i've written others but never got around to posting them. i really hope you guys enjoy this now, or that you enjoyed it then, because i sure did. omg why am i'm talking myself up? like, honestly, i don't even know. 
> 
> also, i am, in fact, a beauty school drop out that was a wanna be scene queen who still does her hair like back in ~the day~


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